


This Rabbit Hole Never Ends

by ErinPtah



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Anniversary, Background Character Death, Canon Carlos, M/M, Moving, Stealth Crossovers, The Desert Otherworld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 02:54:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4043104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinPtah/pseuds/ErinPtah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil agrees to move to the otherworld desert to live with Carlos, and discovers that even when they're in a new and unfamiliar place, their relationship hasn't changed.</p><p>An anniversary, and a snapshot of what came after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Cecil hummed to himself as he snipped the best flowers from the window box, ready to be arranged on the dining room table.

On _their_ dining room table. On his and Carlos's dining room table. For his and Carlos's anniversary. So many wonderful combinations of words...!

He was the one making the dinner, because Carlos — as usual — was busy at work. These unannounced late nights used to bother Cecil, and he had put in a lot of effort trying to get Carlos to call when it happened. Now, though? He was just thankful he could count on Carlos to come home to him at the end of the day. However late that was.

Cecil worked too, of course. But the job of local radio host wasn't nearly as demanding out here as it had been back in Night Vale. There was no traffic; there were no advertisers, no government to send them press releases, no agencies to make public service announcements; the only person who ever called in was Carlos, and only rarely; maybe once a month there was an item for the community calendar. And, of course, there were only about a dozen listeners, since nobody out here had ever owned a radio receiver until Carlos and Kevin started making them.

Thinking about Kevin made Cecil grimace as he arranged the flowers in a vase. His colleague/nemesis/neighbor was still suffering from the influence of Strexcorp's conditioning, and Cecil doubted he would ever fully recover. Science, unfortunately, was no help — Cecil had tried to ask Carlos about it shortly after he moved, and gotten a blank look and a confused "Help him? But he's fine!"

Well, Cecil had learned to put up with it. He'd had to; Kevin was his only co-worker, and the only person he and Carlos could socialize with who was their own size. Which mattered when it came to things like, say, bowling. None of the masked warriors would fit into the bowling alley Carlos had built.

The oven beeped, making Cecil jump. He'd gotten caught up in staring at one of their shelves, the one with a photo of the old league team in between two scuffed trophies, and forgotten all about the roast!

Muttering under his breath, he ran over to switch off the heat and take out the sizzling tray. Sure, he missed bowling with lots of people, but it wasn't a big deal. He still talked with Josie on the phone sometimes, and that other teammate whose name and face he couldn't remember and whose conversations always faded into buzzing when he hung up. He'd even gone back to visit Night Vale for league night once, although the round trip was such a hassle! No wonder Carlos had never done it, back before he'd asked Cecil to move out here for good.

The roast already smelled delicious. And it would only be better once Cecil added the special seasonings Earl had recommended, the last time they talked.

He talked with Earl even less than he did Josie.

(He had spoken to Dana maybe twice. She had finally managed to prove that she wasn't the one subjecting him to unwilling mind-control, but by that point Cecil had already decided to move. It's one thing to maintain a friendship long-distance, and quite another to repair one.)

Well, some amount of drifting away from people was just part of life. Cecil had survived the year when Josie was MIA under the angels' secret protection program; he'd learned to cope after Earl got dragged away by strange mute children, and Cecil had assumed he would never be seen again; he'd stayed strong when Carlos first went missing and didn't call him for a month. Not talking to people too often was easier when you at least knew that they were alive and well.

He set out the nice dishes, cracked a bottle of wine, and poured two glasses.

Who needed an extended network of nearby friends, anyway? Hadn't Cecil felt isolated and disconnected most of the time, those last few months in Night Vale? He was probably just romanticizing the idea now that he no longer had it. He did that sometimes: idealized things that weren't part of his world, and took for granted the things that were.

Carlos didn't have that problem. Carlos could be happy wherever he was. He had never mentioned missing anyone from that university where he used to teach. He'd seemed friendly with his team of scientists back in Night Vale, but hadn't been too broken up about getting separated from them. He'd gotten close to some of the masked warriors, but when both Doug and Alicia had fallen in battle a few months ago, he'd adjusted pretty quickly.

In retrospect, maybe Cecil should have appreciated it more when they'd been separated and Carlos had said things like "I love you" or "I miss you." Sure, it was a poor substitute for the physical contact he'd missed, or for conversations where he could talk about his own issues and have Carlos listen without distraction...but when he thought about how easy it probably would have been for Carlos to forget about him completely....

Cecil shook himself. What was he doing, dwelling on past stresses? Tonight was supposed to be for _celebrating_.

Sure, it had hurt when their relationship was in that uncertain limbo where Cecil kept waiting for Carlos to come back to Night Vale, unaware that Carlos no longer wanted to do so...but Carlos _had_ eventually come clean. And when he'd asked Cecil to move to the desert instead, Cecil had said yes! Once they'd finally started talking about it, it turned out there had been an answer that would make them both happy this whole time! Carlos had a ton of science to do in their new home, and nobody here would yell "interloper!" when he went by, or accuse him of being an evil secret agent. Cecil had his own job, and beautiful scenery to enjoy, and he still had the Internet and never needed to charge his phone.

And, perhaps most important of all, he had _Carlos_. The love of his life. The one person whose presence would make any other hardships worth it.

Cecil set out two candles, lit the dancing flames, dimmed the lights, and waited for Carlos to get home.

 

___/*\\___

 

He jerked awake with a start, neck sore from the way he'd fallen asleep sideways in a chair. The house was dark. All he could see was the blinking red light through the window, a single candle flame sputtering on the table, and a smaller blinking red light from his phone.

Cecil stretched, groaned, and shuffled blearily across the carpet to see what was going on.

_1 New Voicemail._

Rubbing his neck, Cecil poked through options with his free thumb until he got the message playing.

_Hi, babe, it's me. Sorry I got your voicemail._

_I have exciting news! When I was leaving work this afternoon, I saw a rabbit. Now, you know rabbits are not native to this desert, which means it was a fascinating scientific mystery where this one came from, so I followed it, to try to find out._

_After a short run it went down a rabbit hole, which is a thing that rabbits do. And the hole was much bigger than you would expect based on the rabbit's size, so I was able to keep following it. Here is what I found out: the hole was also much deeper than you would expect! I ended up falling very far down. I don't know exactly how far._

_Long story short, I also have bad news: I have not figured out how to get back up to the surface, and will probably be late for our anniversary dinner tonight._

_But don't worry about me! I'm not hurt or anything — a scientist is always fine — and also, this place looks pretty interesting. For instance, there are some bottles that I really want to investigate. They have labels, and strange liquids inside, and they look really scientifically fascinating!_

_Once I'm done with that, though, I will get right to work on finding a way home again._

_I love you. I'll call again soon._


	2. Chapter 2

The duffel bag bulged and strained under the weight of all Cecil's most treasured possessions as he hauled it up the subway station escalator.

It wasn't much.

Cecil had lost most of his bowling trophies in a rockslide years ago, and he'd never gotten back into the game. It was a favorite of the locals in the country he moved to a year after Carlos stumbled there by rabbit-hole, but they played with live armadillos for balls, and the armadillos didn't seem happy with the arrangement, so Cecil couldn't get into it. Then Carlos asked if he would be willing to move to Florian, where they didn't play at all.

He had fallen out of the habit of wood-carving in the world where it was a crime to disturb the local tree-spirits, the one Carlos had wandered into via cursed wardrobe and eventually asked Cecil to join him in. His art supplies had come to life and run away during the fourteen months he spent living in a high-rise in Dictionopolis. Most of his clothes these days were the ones he had gotten in Rohan, which were scratchy and uncomfortable, or the ones from Ba Sing Se, which were designed for a temperate climate. He'd left those behind on purpose.

His phone was stuffed into an inside pocket. It hadn't worked for at least five years. One time Carlos had pointed out that, scientifically speaking, there was no empirical reason to keep it around.

It was the only time in their long relationship that Cecil had yelled at him, and stormed out of the idyllic seaside cottage they'd been living in at the time.

When he came back, Carlos had promised not to mention the idea again.

Of course, Carlos had also promised not to leave him alone at that cottage for months on end, either.

The latest message was in Cecil's pocket, folded parchment crunching as he stepped off the top of the escalator and out into the sunlight. He could recite the beats by heart without reading it. _This place is amazing. I'll look for a way home when I get the chance. Please respect what a great opportunity this is for my career. I love you._

The world Cecil had emerged into was _not_ the world of Carlos's latest career opportunity.

Its streets and buildings were unfamiliar, so Cecil picked a direction at random and walked until he found a bus stop. Along the way he passed a municipal recycling bin. He pulled the letter out of his pocket, crumpled it in his fist, and stuffed it through the slot.

He was in luck: a bus rolled up next to the curb a few minutes later. Less lucky: the machine screeched when Cecil tried to scan his card.

"No fare, no ride," grunted the driver.

"I'm sorry," stammered Cecil. "I don't have any cash on me. Please, if you could just take me as far as the station — I can try to top it up once I —"

"Hang on." The driver tipped up their cap and squinted at Cecil. "I know that voice. Didn't you used to be on the radio?"

"I did, yes. Every night."

"Oh, wow, I used to listen all the time. What ever happened to you?" Without waiting for an answer, the driver added: "Tell you what: I'll give you one free ride if you say the catchphrase. Just like you used to."

Cecil nodded, took a deep breath, and intoned: "Welcome...to Night Vale."

 

___/*\\___

 

He knew the street, knew the house number, but the duplex was an unfamiliar color and there was a park down the road he didn't remember at all. He knocked on the door anyway, because he'd used up his free ride to get here, and what else was he going to do?

A stranger, a woman he'd never seen before with short dark hair and glasses, answered.

"I'm sorry," began Cecil, adjusting the bag on his shoulder. "I must have the wrong —"

"You made it!" exclaimed the stranger. Over her shoulder, she yelled back into the house: "Dad! Uncle Cecil's here!"

Cecil gaped.

A second later, a man came around the corner into the front hall, and yeah, that was definitely Steve Carlsberg. His hair was mostly grey and his face was more lined, but he was instantly recognizable as the same punchable jerk he'd always been. "Hi, Cecil! The dotted lines told me you'd be coming. The guest room's all set up — Janice, hon, why don't you go report the change in residents to the ficus with the microphone in it, while I help get your uncle settled in."

Janice spun her chair around — it was hovering; when had that been invented? — and zoomed over to the ficus, while Steve held out a hand for Cecil's bag.

"Thanks," muttered Cecil, and let him take it.

"What, no 'ugh, I don't need help from _you_ , Steve Carlsberg'? You really must have had a long trip." Steve kept a jovial smile on his face until they were through the kitchen and out of sight of Janice, then said, in a lower voice, "So...you left him, huh."

Cecil balked. "I did not _leave_ him!"

Steve raised an eyebrow.

"...He left me." Cecil swallowed. "Again. I just...decided to stop following."

"Okay. So you did that." Steve tossed the duffel bag onto the guest bed. "I, uh, don't know if you have a plan or anything, but I've been keeping an eye on the sky...a lot of companies would commit capital crimes to get you doing their local radio ads, and Sheriff Flynn just put out a job ad for new police spokesbeings, and I know the middle school is looking for a part-time theater teacher in the fall."

"Really?" For a second Cecil's interest jumped at the thought of getting to teach Janice...then he remembered that his niece was the young adult he'd seen out front, not a middle schooler any more. He'd missed so much....

"Not that I want to rush you! It's okay if it takes some time to find your feet. And of course you can stay here as long as you need to." Steve hesitated, then added, "It's what Abby would have wanted."

He watched with cautious, open-hearted sympathy as that sunk in. Part of Cecil hated him for it.

"If you need to be alone...."

"No!" cried Cecil. "No — that's the last thing I need — I would even accept _your_ company, that's how much I need not to be alone."

Steve looked like he was making a significant effort not to crush Cecil into a hug. "Aw, Cecil, I'm happy to see you too! But I think you'd better hang out with Janice first. You've got a lot of years to catch up on. Me...I'll work on dinner. How long has it been since you've had pizza?"


End file.
